The Harvest Moon’s Warm white glow Illuminates The hills below Where meadows roll Under Jasmine flowers Whose perfume inspires And empowers The stargazers The moon bathers The stillness shakers The dream chasers The wonder seekers Who refuse to give up Choosing instead To simply look up
The rose blooms Because it must Rise up From the dust So, we may see Something beautiful So, we may know What is lovely
She weeps for us For our pettiness And still, we drink her tears Oblivious, she is crying We turn a deaf ear To the whimpering To the trembling Of our precious earth If only more would realize How much her tears are worth
November’s golden embers Grow dimmer by the day Faded and fallen Never long to stay Never ones to say goodbye Just gone for good one day Though we wish to hold on That is November’s way
The old-growth pines Are slowly letting go Brittle needles fall Orange-tinged below Where pinecones sprout Evergreen The wind’s a mix Of pine and gasoline A chainsaw hums In the distance
She’s falling faster Day by day I beg the sun, “Please, can’t you stay? You make the day Warm and bright You’re the best defense For the darkest night.” With a slight smile She needed no words I knew her answer I knew she’d heard As I watched her fall Behind the earth I knew… Read More Birth
There’s a new threat This time of year From high in the treetops They suddenly appear A danger to our heads A scare to our feet A tasty treat Hungry squirrels eat Acorns invade Our quiet country streets
Cornfield mazes Bushels of apples Crisp Fall nights White wooden chapels Aged cheddar cheese Flannel shirts Grazing cows Roads made of dirt Freshly brewed coffee Stargazing at night Pumpkin patches Leaves turn bright Days grow shorter Geese take flight
I watched the leaves Fall like rain A sprinkle A shower They spattered The ground Before pooling In technicolor Puddles A bowl of promises Yet to come
The butterflies admire The flowers as they sway The chipmunks continue To run about and play The bees give thanks For the promise of golden honey From the clovers that grow To feed the hungry bunnies The birds flock together To sing a song of praise The squirrels bow their heads In the trees… Read More Sunday Morning
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